Beyond Kira
by Yukihou
Summary: Let's hand over a Death Note to our good friend Beyond Birthday, seemingly trapped within a Californian prison with no way out.
1. Epiphany

_Shinigami are not permitted to extend or end another shinigami's life, nor are they permitted to give human lives to other shinigami._

* * *

 _Drip_

Ominous black clouds loomed overhead, static and fixed as they stretched on forever. Beneath this dark blanket, milky-white skeletons of creatures from a bygone era jutted out of the field, casting amorphous shadows over an endless black desert. Draped across these moon-bones were chains that likely originate from grotesque torture chambers belonging to the most ruthless of warlords from medieval times. A dark mist blanketed the land, obscuring the mountains and plains in the far distance from view.

 _Drip_

Well, not like there was much to see anyway.

 _Drip_

He sighed with content as he fixed his gem-eyes on his new book and took a puff on his cigar. Today was a normal day. A perfectly normal day.

 _Drip_

It was rare for a shinigami like him to have a whole day to himself, considering how often others passed by to make appointments for all sorts of reasons, and he planned to make the most he could out of it. After all, to do hard work — exerting his mindpower was no easy task — one needs hard rest.

 _Drip_

Right?

 _Drip_

A perfectly _good_ day. The shinigami sat deeper into his chair and took a long drag.

 _Dri-_

"AUGGGHH!" The shinigami slapped his majestic gem-encrusted face in a very un-majestic manner and glared through his fingers to see where the accursed sound was coming from. There, sprawled on the ground a couple of feet away was a big blob of black, covered head to toe in some kind of weird murky goo.

What caught the shinigami's eye was a tiny brown drop of liquid suspended from the thing by a connection so thin that it was practically invisible.

 _If you drop, I will destroy you,_ he swore. The drop stayed motionless.

 _. . ._

 _Hmm._

- _ip_

"ARGHHHHH!"

He slowly raised a bony index finger at the black thing and hollered, _"Get that dripping thing off of you!_ " Suddenly, a strong gust of wind slammed against him, knocking the cigar out of his hand and causing the pages of his new book to mimic a mentally-disturbed bird.

 _FLAPFLAPFLAPFLAPFLAPFLAPFLAP_

Now, for the first time, he could see whatever the thing carrying the dripping thing was.

Oh.

It was just another lost soul seeking his infallible wisdom.

"Whudduyou want," he grunted, and fixed his eyes back onto his book. He hated walk-ins, especially ones that ruined his good days. And also ones that ruined his cigars. For sure.

The black thing stood up, dusted itself off, and turned around to face the skeleton shinigami. "Hello! oh, uh... well, uh...I've got a bad problem," the thing said. "I tried talking to the boss, but he didn't care, and...and the others told me to find a "Shiny Justin," and that "Shiny Justin" will help me...wait...you are "Shiny Justin" right? You look shiny enough."

"It's Armonia Justin." Armonia turned the page, took out another cigar, and lit it. "Lost notebook?" he asked. If the problem wasn't a lost notebook, he planned to tell this annoying shinigami to get its behind out of his sight. He took a long drag out of his cigar, letting smoke blow out of his skull.

"I didn't lose that, but I did lose-"

Bye bye.

"I'm busy. Come again at some other time." He turned the page again.

"C'mon, Shiny Justin! I gotta get help!" the thing pleaded in a high-pitched whine that made Armonia's topaz - or was it sapphire? - eyes roll in exasperation.

Armonia shut his book close and looked up for the first time since this thing's arrival. In front of him stood a towering black mass of flesh covered in holes, like cheese. A small, lipless mouth full of sharp teeth opened up at the creature's midriff. Long strands of white hair hung in clumps from the top of its body, making the creature look like a dead palm tree. A pair of legs that stretched on forever sprouted out from the shinigami's underbelly, and two pairs of thin black arms dangled loosely by its side.

It wore large black boots, a black worn-out leather vest covered with pins and stickers, and a tiny plastic tophat. Two arms were stuffed in the vest's coat pockets, while the other two arms hung at the creature's sides. A black notebook peeked out from underneath the vest's chest pocket.

Armonia raised an eyebrow. "I've never seen you before, shinigami. Are you new?"

"Of course not, Shiny Justin. Look, you gotta help me!" The black shinigami opened up his four hands, revealing an eye socket in each palm. Two sockets were empty, while the other two had a pair of small white eyeballs. "I was gambling the other day with my eyeballs, I ran out of stuff to use, when some bastard shinigami took all of our stuff, my eye in tow. Before me and my buddies knew it, the bastard was gone in a blur. I looked in every cave and rock and pools full of nasty stuff and I still couldn't find it!" It gestured at the murky brown stuff, now silently falling to the ground.

"I don't see what the problem is. You still got a pair of working eyeballs, haven't you?"

"Uh...they've been badly damaged. The farthest I can see with these eyes is my notebook, everything else is blurry. Even if I get really close, I still can't see it and I dunno why."

The skeleton shinigami propped his head onto his palm. "You're lucky I'm in a good mood today. I usually don't accept walk-ins." Armonia scratched his chin. "I've never had a case like this before. The only spare stuff I've got are pens," He took out a lime-colored pen and spun it around. "I don't even think the King has any spare eyes."

The black shinigami squeezed his head-torso thing with his two hands. "Well, how am I supposed to write in my notebook without any functioning eyes?"

Armonia shrugged. "Can't you just zoom in real close to the human?"

"I told you already, the name's all blurry and stuff!"

"When was the last time you wrote a name?"

"I can't remember...a very very long time ago?" The black shinigami flipped through his notebook and found the last name he wrote. "The ink looks pretty old to me. All I can remember is that the life I took was pretty short. It won't last me much."

"Let me think". Armonia thought for a while and finally said, "I can't guarantee anything, but I suggest you go down to the Human World and find a human who could get names for you. I've heard that they treat shinigami very well, and always obey our commands, that is if they don't get too scared and die, or so I've heard. Once you're sure that your lifespan isn't in danger, you could go find your eyeballs"."

The black shinigami shook his head-torso thing. "I'll have to stick with the human until they die! That's boring!"

"Too bad. Do you possess an extra notebook?"

"Uh, I only need one".

"You'll need a spare notebook to go to the human world".

Armonia held out his hand to the black shinigami. "I do have a spare notebook, though I worked long and hard for this. Do you have anything to trade with?"

The black shinigami rubbed his chin and sighed. "I guess...sounds reasonable." He took out three packs of cigars and threw it at Armonia, who caught it with two hands. "The others told me that you'd love a smoke, so I got some cigars on my way here."

Armonia studied the cigars and chuckled. "Where in the world... you heard right." He put the cigars away, took out several rolls of parchment, and handed them to the black shinigami. "Take these before you go. These scrolls are the list of the rules regarding interaction with Humans. A boring read, in my opinion. I'm sure the King won't mind if you break a few small rules. Just don't go around intentionally wreaking havoc or stuff of that sort, and you'll be fine." Armonia pointed to his right at the vast black desert beyond. "If you fly straight that way, you should be able to reach the portal to the Human World. Who knows, your eyes might even be in the Human World." He took out a black notebook and tossed it to the shinigami. "Throw that into the Human World and wait for a couple of days. You should instinctively know where the notebook is after that."

The black shinigami tucked the scrolls away into his coat pockets and tipped his tiny plastic hat. "Thanks, Shiny Justin. I'll be on my way now."

Armonia sat back in his chair and waved nonchalantly. "Have fun."

* * *

"Shiny Justin was right, that really was a boring read."

The black shinigami reached to the bottom of the stairs and looked down. Misty coils and wisps of light flew out from the light and brushed against its feet.

"The portal to the human world..."

He took out his Death Note and threw it into the light below.

"Now I have to wait until who knows when...ugh, this is so boring."

* * *

"Leisure time's over, folks! Get to the courtyard for roll-call!"

The inmate closed the lid over his small jar of strawberry jam and licked his fingers clean. As he walked across the prison yard, something caught his foot. He looked down.

 _A book?_

He picked it up and flipped through it. The pages were ruled, like that of a school notebook. Half of the notebook was filled with thousands of names in all kinds of languages. The other half was eerily blank.

 _Odd._

He stuffed the book into his jar of jam and continued forward.

* * *

 _Gods of death are not permitted to touch any part of a human, living or dead. They may not kill humans by means other than a Death Note._

* * *

"Another three inmates were found dead of heart attacks last night, believed to be the works of the mass murderer "Kira". At 7:30 pm, Bob Tyler, age 43, was found dead in his cell..."

Beyond put down his newspaper, slid it into his desk drawer, and pulled out an older newspaper.

REVERED "GOD" KIRA KILLING CRIMINALS AROUND THE WORLD.

The mystery behind criminals dying of heart attacks at the hand of the supposed "god" Kira around the world has become a fun puzzle for Beyond to work on in his free time. Never before has he encountered a puzzle he couldn't solve in a week's span, an already a month had passed since he had first heard of him.

He was certain that L was on this case; murderers who left behind very small clues were his favorite. L, however, did not have a crucial clue that Beyond had obtained just a week ago when witnessing a fellow inmate collapse to the ground from a heart attack.

 _Kira can end a life before its death date. Certainly,_ Kira wasn't your everyday mass murderer.

Beyond had experimented with the lifespans of others many times in the past. He had tried to murder others long before their destined death date and never succeeded. He would lock up healthy subjects destined to die in the next several days in airtight rooms with filtered ventilation and disinfected food fed through a tiny slot, only to have the subject rot away due to some bizarre variable he overlooked.

Not only that, it was awfully convenient that he has the ability to see the names of every human he met, and the name of the victim is one of the things Kira needs to know in order to kill.

In murder mysteries, especially ones as mysterious as the Kira case, every clue was treasured, no matter how small. Without him, L will never obtain that piece of information and might never break down an obstacle that he could've broken down with Beyond's help.

The thought of beating L to the finish line kept him excited and motivated. Quite important when his schedule was blander than prison bread.

* * *

 _A name and face. Why a name and face?_

Figuring out the requirements for Kira's murders were a piece of cake. A couple of days after first hearing about Kira, Beyond noticed that every criminal reported to die of a heart attack had their name and face broadcasted on TV or printed in newspapers.

 _Suppose Kira could just_ think _of a person's name and face and their death. He would need a face to confirm the identity of the victim if others share the name, that makes sense._

 _But why would he need a name if he already had the face? Even twins have small differences in their facial complexions._

 _..._

 _And then there's this notebook._

Beyond took the black notebook out of the jar of jam he kept it in and licked off the specks of strawberry that stuck to the book. Notebooks were hard to come by in prison, and he was afraid that someone might take it back, so he hid it in the most inconspicuous place he could find.

 _This notebook is full of names, and Kira needs a name to kill. How convenient._

Beyond gnawed on his fingernails and stared out the pages.

 _What if all the killer needs to do is write down the victim's name and draw a picture of the victim's face? No, the rate at which Kira kills is too high for him to draw a portrait of every single one of his victims._

 _Why would he need a name? Why would he need a name?_

 _What if he needed to say the name out loud? Perhaps he_ works _for a god and delivers the names._

He scooped up the last of his jam and sucked it into his mouth.

 _Does he want to record his victims? Perhaps to document his achievement, it could only be done with a name._

Beyond dug for any remaining jam, and his fingers came up clean.

 _I need more jam._

* * *

"C'mon, play with us!"

"It must be boring just sitting there!"

He shook his head-torso thing at the others and swung his legs to and fro over the edge, kicking up more mist. "I'm waiting for a human."

"Waiting for a human? Whaddya mean?" Shinigami Two wondered, genuinely baffled.

"I've dropped my Death Note into the Human World. I'm gonna get some human to get me names instead of you unhelpful dummies."

"Why the hell is everyone dropping Death Notes these days? So much work," Shinigami One groaned and collapsed over into blissful repose.

"I'll never understand," Shinigami Two muttered, fixing his eyes back onto his cards. "Let him do what he wants."

* * *

Beyond flipped through the notebook, looking for anything he had missed. There wasn't much to do, and he figured he might as well play with his new toy.

 _Names, names, names..._

He ripped out a page and checked for hidden flaps. Nothing. He pried at the top of the cover to see if it opened. Nothing. He scratched at the pages hoping to find some sort of secret message. Nothing.

As he shut the notebook closed, something caught his eye.

 _Bob Miller? Isn't he that dead politician who ran for..._

Unbeknownst to Beyond, a figure descended through the ceiling into the prison cell. He spotted a distinct blur of black in the human's hands that resembled Justin's spare notebook and quickly swiped a very nearsighted eyeball through the air above the human's head.

Just a chain of red blurs.

Wait.

 _A_ chain? He swiped again.

"Found you!"

Beyond spun around in surprise and was met with a huge black monster that was anything but human. He stumbled and fell onto his bed.

"AHHHHHHH!"

The shinigami grinned and tipped its tiny plastic top hat. "Hi! I'm a shinigami, a god of death. I've been searching all over this place for that notebook!"

 _Shinigami._ _Notebook._ _Names._ _Bob Miller._ _Kira needs a name and a face._

The puzzle pieces began to fall into place, clouding his mind from the horror before him.

 _A name._

 _A god of death._

 _Death._

Beyond lay sprawled, motionless. His hair casted a dark shadow over his eyes.

"You've come for that notebook?"

The black shinigami scratched the top of his head-torso thing. "Shouldn't you be screaming or something?"

 _Notebook._

 _Death._

 _Heart attack._

"If you write a name in the notebook, the person will die of a heart attack. Am I correct, shinigami?"

"Duh... wait, how did you figure that out?"

The prison lights dimmed, giving Beyond's eyes a red glint. "You don't have a name or a number, shinigami."

"What do you-"

 _A god._

 _Death notebook._

 _I can't see it._

 _A name. A name is written to kill...before the death date..._

 _So these are_ shinigami _eyes, shinigami?_

"A name and face, but with these, you only need a face..."

The shinigami stood there confused at all of Beyond's babbling. Suddenly, the epiphany plowed hard into its stomach.

"Hey... you've got shinigami eyes!"

 _Name and face... A name to kill..._

 _Shinigami face._

 _Of course._

Beyond grinned.

 _"Kira is a human with a shinigami notebook!"_

The lights flickered and burnt out, leaving Beyond shrouded in darkness.

He flipped open the notebook and scribbled down a name with a small piece of pencil lead, all while peering at a window on the other side of the hallway outside his cell door that conveniently reflected an image of the neighboring cell. To his horror, the words and numbers above the sleeping occupant's head still steadily floated as they had ever since Beyond met him. Beyond twisted his body back to his desk and carefully analyzed what he had just written.

 _Perhaps, this isn't how the notebook is used?_

He frantically flipped back in the notebook to analyze the previous names written in the notebook.

 _The medium used is ink. That must be it..._

His eyes darted at the shinigami, who was facing the window that Beyond had gazed at a couple of seconds ago.

 _"If you write a name in the notebook, the person will die of a heart attack. Am I correct, shinigami?"_

 _"Duh... wait, how did you figure that out?"_

 _I have been tricked. Was I too excited... that I had reached a potential answer..._

At that moment, a muffled gasp came from behind the wall, followed by a thud. Beyond instinctively looked out his cell door at the small window across the hallway again, at the reflection of a man sprawled across the dirty floor in the adjacent cell. The letters and numbers that once were suspended above the man's head were no more.

"He died...before his date..." Beyond muttered in utter disbelief.

The shinigami darted away to see what had happened to the human next door and darted back, all while mumbling something along the lines of "Wuh...buh...uh."

 _A delay... was all it was. I was right. I was right. I was right._

 _So this is how Kira kills... L._

Beyond's red eyes shown in the dark as he let out a bone-chilling laugh, fueled with his amusement and delight. The shinigami stood there scratching its hair, confused and surprised, and for just a second, thought that Beyond was a shinigami who had tricked him for a good laugh.

It couldn't be, the thing in front of him had a name and a lifespan.

So who was this human?

* * *

 _A shinigami may not commit mass murder in the human world. The rate of kills considered to be mass murder is not specified._

 _\- Btw, not all of these made-up rules are relevant to the story. Some are just written here for fun._

 _\- I feel that my writing is a little too bombastic. Maybe you could let me know?_

 _\- :)_


	2. Departure

_Names and the details/causes of deaths written in Death Notes must be written in legible handwriting in order for the death to occur._

* * *

 _boom_

Someone was approaching.

 _Boom_

Beyond quickly slid the notebook away into his drawer and exhaled, relieved. Then, his heart stopped.

 _BOOM_

A tall shadow slid under Beyond's cell door as a tiny rectangular peephole slid open, revealing a pair of angry eyes sweeping its gaze around the cell's interior.

"What the hell's so funny?"

 _The shinigami!_

Beyond jerked around, expecting the guard to see the shinigami in his cell through the peephole and scream. However, to his surprise, the guard stared right back at Beyond, focusing on him and only him.

He quickly spun his head backward and stared at the shinigami, who was playing with the pins on its vest and turned around to face the guard again.

 _You can't see it?_

He leaned forward towards the officer and grinned. "You know, I was having the most _peculiar_ dream. The wonderful feeling of a sharp knife slicing through tender flesh..."

After a couple seconds, the officer, sensing nothing of suspicion inside Beyond's cell, grunted and quickly walked away.

"If you were wondering, only people who've touched that notebook can see or hear me-"

A piece of lead flew through the shinigami's head at an imperceptible speed and ricocheted off of the opposite wall, falling to the ground at the shinigami's feet.

 _Bink._

"Shinigami can't be hurt by anything, 'cause whatever you throw at me, I can just phase through."

"I figured." Beyond dropped his grin and faced the shinigami. "Why are you here, shinigami? Have you come to take back your notebook? Or perhaps to kill me?"

"Kill you? Of course nope. You see...I've lost a pair of my eyeballs". The shinigami revealed the empty eye sockets in its palm. "Without my good eyeballs, everything is really, really blurry, so I've decided to come to the human world to find a human who'd give names for me, since blurry faces apparently work all right. But for some reason, I just can't see the names!" He glanced down at his notebook. "At least I found my eyes now."

The shinigami pointed at Beyond. "I'm pretty sure that you have my eyes. Really convenient, huh? A human can only meet one shinigami in their lifetime, so if you made the deal, you'd be dead. I'll have to kill you eventually, but not right now. I need to figure out how to get my eyeballs back, and a shinigami can only come to the human world once in their lifetime."

Beyond stooped forward. "If I were to, say, kill myself with this notebook, what would happen to you?"

The shinigami waved its arms back and forth frantically. "I don't think that would go well for either of us! Really! Don't die or anything before I figure out how I can get my eyes back, alright?!"

 _Really?_

He nibbled on his fingernails and turned back around.

* * *

"Why does everyone here wear that?" The shinigami waved its hands around Beyond's clothes. "Usually I see humans wearing all kinds of stuff."

"What, the uniform? This is prison, shinigami. Inmates wear uniforms."

"Prison?"

"Where criminals are kept."

"So you're a criminal."

Beyond scowled. "No."

"Then why are you here?"

"Precisely why I will escape." Beyond took a bite at his fingernails. "There's no possible way I would let my life end here-" He widened his eyes and smiled. "Shinigami. Can you see the numbers above my head?"

"Yes, but I can't tell you. Shinigami rules." The shinigami took out a few scrolls of parchment. "That reminds me. I gotta look through these scrolls again in case I skipped over something that could tell me how to get my eyes back."

Beyond sank his teeth into his thumb as he stared at the shinigami, now curled up in a corner intently reading a long scroll of parchment. He let out a morbid chuckle.

* * *

 _Kira..._

 _Because of you, I can't have fun._

 _Ughhh!_

He raised the piece of lead and hesitated. Fate was so cruel, preventing Beyond from experimenting with such an enigmatic object.

 _Every damn kill counts._

* * *

Beyond shuffled along the concrete floor of his cell on all fours, making sure that his back and rear end was always shielding the notebook away from the eyes of any officers who happened to be passing by.

They thought he was crazy already, so there was no harm in doing so. Plus, it's relaxing and good for your body. That's why people do yoga on all fours.

"There must be some sort of rulebook pertaining to this notebook that shinigami use, or else how would they know how it works?"

The shinigami shrugged. "For shinigami, there isn't much to learn. I mean, you just write down some human's name, picture their face in your mind, and they die! I don't have one, but Skeleton's got a lot of notebook guides, though." The shinigami opened its mouth into an "O" shape. "If there is a notebook guide, that means that the notebook must be quite complicated. Maybe I should get one."

"Skeleton?"

"Yeah, Justin is a skeleton shinigami. We all look different. There are some strange ones, they don't have heads, feet, hands-"

Beyond stooped forward, curious. "Without hands, how do shinigami write?"

"Well, they could grow strange appendages or use their mouths in place of hands. I even heard some could use their tongue to write!"

 _No hands?_

Beyond grabbed a piece of paper, scribbled strange characters onto the surface with the oozing blood from a finger that he had just pricked, and slapped it onto a page of the notebook.

The letters were smeared, but still legible.

40 seconds later...

 _THUMP_

* * *

"You sure wrote a lot of names already. I've never seen a human so...merciless before. Usually, they all hesitate a little before taking the life of another human."

"Killing a person for the sake of killing them really wastes a nice opportunity. Imagine the countless ways a person could be sliced, diced, and dismembered. And their screams..." He grinned.

"oooookay?"

Beyond grinned as he gazed out the window slit. "Remind me to get my knife on my way out. I'd hate to part with it, after all of the _sweet_ memories we shared together."

The shinigami sweatdropped. "Out of all the humans in this World, I had to get a- oh, that reminds me. It's time for you to get me a name, or else I might not live much longer to figure out a way to get my eyes back. If you don't, uh..." The shinigami sat in deep thought for a while and then piped up with a wide smile. "I'll just kind-of-kill-you. The last time I saw a shinigami do it, the human screamed, and boy was it loud."

Beyond glanced down the hallway and spotted an inmate heading towards the cafeteria.

 _One loss wouldn't hurt_.

"Barry Dawson."

The shinigami clicked its pen and opened its notebook. "Good thing you agree with me, human, or else I would've had to do _it_. What language?"

"English. The language you were just speaking in."

"Okie dokie. How do you spell it?"

"B-A-R-R-Y-space-D-A-W-S-O-N."

"Barry...Dawson. Now, let me just quickly take a look at this Barry guy..." The shinigami floated out of the cell and drifted away.

Beyond stared out the window as a scream rang in his ears.

* * *

 _The most opportune time to escape would be at night. Night on Christmas, security will be the loosest, it has been this way every year, holiday season. I could cause massive damage, a fire perhaps, for distraction...-no. Starting anything that causes chaos would only strengthen security. The only possible way of escape would be..._

 _would be...to go_ out _the front door?_

 _to go out the front door._

Beyond pictured himself strolling out of the prison gate, the officers completely oblivious to his actions. Oblivious as in dead.

 _Dead._

 _Obviously, disabling the cameras will be necessary. I'll just grab some technicians, put them next to the power generators, and let lightning do the rest. That means I'll need a map._

 _But how to kill the patrols?_

 _If I manipulated an inmate...no, how would they know, useless...an officer to take me out under the disguise of an inmate transfer...no, unauthorized transfers will be reported...I cannot write down their names fast enough to kill all of them before they confiscate this notebook and send me back, nearby departments will be alerted..._

 _If I were to kill them in advance...but I do not know which officer would be scheduled there and when, and I can't just make them tell me... a death cannot cause another death..._

He slid his fingernails back and forth against his teeth.

 _The schedule is always changing to prevent inmates from detecting a pattern._

 _30 patrol teams, always random...8 teams every night..._

 _Shifts in two-hour intervals, that's quite a small window of opportunity..._

 _Or if I got a couple of officers to kill the others..._

He continued to nibble on his fingers.

 _...right._

 _I need to create an air of uncertainty... something that will prevent them initiating an immediate search. I must make it to LA alive._

 _A cell block?_

 _I will have to wipe out...a cell block..._

 _Yes, my cell block should be enough._

The shinigami shoved its hand through the window past Beyond, who was looking out of it from his crouch atop his bed slab, and waved it around. "What's so interesting out there?"

 _This notebook..._

 _If there are rules, there are loopholes..._

Beyond pulled the notebook out from its spot between his knees and chest.

 _So where the fuck are they?_

He clamped down on his pinky nail. Fortunately, it didn't come off.

 _I'll get a collection of the prison staff for now._

The shinigami looked around and grunted. "This is quite a boring place you live in. I can't sit in this place until you die, that's too boring."

Beyond smiled and tilted his head so that his ear grazed his shoulder. "Why don't you just help me kill them, then? You could just float there, shave off a couple of years, and float back. Simple."

"Of course nope. I can't help you kill your targets, it's against the rules. But, you can kill humans all you want. I don't care."

 _Useless._

* * *

"Who's this L guy and the Misora bitch you keep mumbling about?"

Beyond bit off his long thumbnail and chewed it. "My future victims".

The shinigami tilted its head in confusion. "So you want to leave this place to kill those guys? Why don't you just write their names in the notebook?"

"Misora bitch got in my way as I was killing L guy. I want get first-hand tickets to see how she dies."

* * *

"Why do you love writing suicide as the cause of death so much? I normally just leave it blank."

"I wouldn't want L to know of my new toy so early, wouldn't I?"

The shinigami sat back down, satisfied, but suddenly frowned and jumped back up. "Wait...how would the L guy know about the notebook? Did a shinigami come to him before?"

"Have you heard about a human called Kira, shinigami?"

"Nope."

The man pinched some jam out of the jar and dropped it into his mouth. "Kira's executes criminals around the world every day, using mysterious heart attacks to 'deal judgment to the wicked'."

"Sounds like that human's got a notebook, then. Oooohhh...I remember! Back at home, I heard about some dumb shinigami who dropped his notebook into the Human World because he was bored or something. Kinda stupid, right? I mean, why would someone bother to go the Human World? So dumb."

Beyond grinned widely. _I thought so. Thank you for your confirmation, shinigami._

* * *

Christmas Eve. Snow had begun to settle in, first one snowflake, then two, then thousands, filling the small cavity in the cell's tall but thin window with white.

 _If you write one person's name down, you can't kill two. It makes perfect fucking sense, but its...its..._

 _So aggravating._

A small breeze blew a few snowflakes onto Beyond's uniform. He glanced at the clock.

 _6:15._

Beyond crunched his nails and chewed it. Tasty.

The burn wounds that covered his body darkened his skin and twisted his appearance. He picked at a scab on his hand, a scab that would have faded along with the rest a long time ago but never was able to due to the excessive picking it received.

 _I have a goddamn death notebook, and I can't figure out a way to kill some officers._

Footsteps, judging by the heaviness to be the sound of an officer approaching.

 _They are clever. They are clever. They are clever._

"Dinner."

 _They are clever. They are clever. They are clever._

The smell alerted Beyond to the presence of his food. He glanced up at the clock again.

 _6:20_

Beyond climbed down the bed and crawled up to his desk, lifting himself up onto the chair into a crouch in an unnatural manner. The shinigami quickly darted to where Beyond was a few seconds ago by the window and stuck his hands out.

"Now its my turn to see outside this thing... wait, I don't see anything. Hey, human, tell me what's so interesting outside!"

The shinigami pulled one hand out and held it in Beyond's direction. Beyond's fingers were clenched between his wide smile, as if he was using his fingers to prevent his teeth from crushing themselves.

This only made the shinigami shove its hands out again through the window with even more excitement.

* * *

"What's that?"

Beyond tossed the package he had received earlier this morning in his mail onto his table and tore it open with a grin and a glint in his eyes. He carefully dumped out a bunch of soap bars and laid them out onto his desk.

"Uh...I don't get it."

"Today is Christmas, shinigami. This is a present I received from the gift exchange." He pulled out a sheet of paper with the entire roster of the inmates in his cell block he had accumulated over the past few days.

An "A-ha" expression popped up on the shinigami's face-body thing. "So you're gonna makes those soap bars into stamps?" Then, the shinigami's expression morphed back into confusion. "Why do you need these stamps if you could just write their names and a specific time of death?"

Beyond scooped up some jam with his forefinger and sucked it into his mouth. "Didn't you notice, shinigami? I ran out of lead...and how much blood do you think I'll need to write hundreds of names?. A wet bar of soap leaves a faint but noticeable residue, enough for the notebook to work." He twisted around to face the shinigami. "You don't happen to have any writing utensils, do you?"

"Uh...why don't you use your jam thing to write? You said it worked before."

"Hell fucking no. My supplier has been left... invalid after a small disagreement on his part." He said this with a terrifying smile. "This jam is the only stuff I have left." Beyond pointed at the jam. "Another good reason for getting out of here."

* * *

A folder slid through the food flap onto the ground at the shinigami's feet.

"What is this thing?"

Beyond picked up the folder and replied, "My ticket out."

 _Now we wait._

* * *

9:30

They hallways were filled with silence, normal for the minutes before bedtime. Naturally, every inmate would be settling in for the night, preparing to recharge their batteries for another long day tomorrow.

But today, it was too silent.

One hundred and twelve barely-legible names written in an equivalent of child slobber filled the pages.

Beyond let out his trademark cackle. The shinigami frowned.

"Why do you like laughing so much?"

"It inflicts fear and intimidates my victims. Also, it's prevents cancer and cures diseases."

The shinigami went back to picking its vest pins. Beyond stopped laughing and turned to face the shinigami.

"Should I laugh like this-" Beyond paused to laugh, "-or like this?" He laughed again in a slightly different tone.

"Uh...the first one?"

Scary.

* * *

 _One power source for these cameras. They must be very confident._

He took out the list of the technicians who were taking the shift tonight from the folder and wrote down their deaths.

 _They should've kept the technicians' schedule a secret. How unfortunate._

He pricked his finger, letting out a small bubble of blood, and painted a small rock he had obtain with it. After enough blood was let out, he proceeded to shove his finger into his mouth and began to suck on it. With the other hand, he wrote.

 _Death by electrocution. Lightning fries all wires near the victim, silently killing them in the process._

40 seconds later, the sound of lightning shook the building, and the small light that shone out from the security camera down the hallway went out.

* * *

"I don't get it...how are you going to use these things to find out which patrols are on-duty?" the shinigami asked as it gestured at the eight photos spread across Beyond's desk. Beyond simply replied with a careless wave. More like a pat on the air.

 _10:04_

The third man's name and lifespan in the picture suddenly vanished...

The shinigami scratched the top of its head-torso thing, obviously intrigued. "The names and lifespans of the humans in these pictures correspond to reality? That's cool."

 _10:07_

followed by the seventh...

 _10:09_

the eighth...

 _10:15_

the second...

 _10:21_

the fifth...

 _10:22_

the fourth...

 _10:24_

the first...

 _10:29_

and finally, the name and lifespan of the sixth man disappeared.

 _The times correspond to..._

Beyond circled the patrols that shared the same identification number as the digits in the minute's section of the times of death.

 _...patrols 7, 9, 15, 21, 22, 24, and 29..._

The shinigami twiddled its fingers. "If you kill the humans in these "patrol teams", wouldn't that mean the deaths of the people in those photos caused the deaths of the humans under those numbers?"

He pulled out a wet bar of soap and started to carve. "You should play more with a toy as fun as this, shinigami."

* * *

 _Bernard Bashing_

 _December 25th. 6:00 pm. Delivers one folder with the technician schedule for December 25 with pictures and a collection of the photos of every officer currently employed by the prison to cell 171 in Cell Block B and a wrapped package containing 200 bars of soap to mailbox 171 at 12:00 pm. Opens the doors of all cells in Cell Block B._

A loud sound shook the building as Beyond's cell's door slid open with a bang.

 _Takes items from bin 171 into a personal vehicle. Leads prisoner 171 out of cell block B at 11:45 am on December 26th._

 _Right on time._

Beyond grinned as he stuffed the stamps into the original box and handed it to the officer along with his half-empty jar of jam containing the notebook. Before leaving, Beyond tore a small piece of paper off of the corner of a newspaper he had kept in his desk and dropped it into the soapbox.

As the three figures exited the prison building into the freezing midnight air, Beyond stepped into a puddle of dark liquid.

 _The snow couldn't have melted already._

He took a closer look.

 _This is..._

 _Blood._

He looked up.

Across the entire prison campus lay countless corpses, oozing blood that congregated into tiny streams. A few grasped blood-speckled guns in their cold hands, some had various sharp objects protruding out from their chests, and many had plenty of blood flowing off of their fingers, presumably from gouging their eyes out.

Beyond stared at the scene with wide eyes, frozen in surprise.

The shinigami darted between corpses, waving his arms around in order to see what was so interesting. "So this is mass murder...huh. I can see why shinigami aren't allowed to do this."

His eyes slowly turned to the notebook in the jar in the officer's hands, and he cackled. But then he remembered about why he was there in the first place. So he held in his glee, causing his facial expression to morph into a sort of suppressed sneeze. A very delightful suppressed sneeze.

 _Opens backseat door for prisoner 171 and gets into driver's seat._

Beyond and the shinigami climbed into the backseat of the grey sedan, placing the soapbox and the jar on the cramped footspace beneath them. The car drove through the open gates onto the highway.

 _Drives for 30 minutes towards Los Angeles. Once 30 minutes over, parks car at the shoulder of the road and walks out of the car._

Beyond took out his clothes and knife out from the trunk and changed into a long-sleeved shirt and a pair of baggy jeans with a pair of gardening gloves.

 _Changes into prison uniform. Suicide via asphyxiation._

The man stopped, clutched his throat, and fell, sprawled on the ground at the shoulder of the road. Beyond quickly shoved the man's body into the car trunk and climbed into the driver's seat. With a wild stomp, he slammed the gas pedal and sped forward, releasing his restrained laughter all the way.

* * *

"Why is there a dead human in the back?"

Beyond turned around to look at the shinigami in the backseat as the car drove through the vast grassland. "We don't want any traces left behind, don't we?"

"I thought the dead guy was enough. You were even wearing gloves and all."

"What about this car, shinigami?"

"Oh, yeah."

Beyond grinded his thumbnail between his teeth. "Brace for impact."

The car swerved right, slammed through the guard rails and rolled into the ditch, colliding with a metal grate blocking a large sewage pipe. Meanwhile, the shinigami had phased through the back of the car and tumbled onto the road, clutching its head in pain.

"Oww... so cruel, human."

"Most fake car accidents are disproved due to the lack of skid marks, shinigami."

Beyond climbed out of the car with the soapbox and the jar in hand and opened the trunk. He settled the soapbox and the jar on the ground and carefully maneuvered the man out of the compartment and into the driver's seat, making to not make skin to skin contact with the corpse. With several cautious swings of his knife, Beyond let loose the airbags, which smothered the man's face completely. He snapped a pair of gloves onto his hands and took out the small piece of paper the man had given him earlier and slipped it into the man's cold hands, making sure that he left no fingerprints on it.

After positioning the corpse, he took out a packet of wipes out from a pocket located on the underside of his shirt and wiped every part of the car he touched from memory, careful to leave some parts unwiped so that other fingerprints would linger. The shinigami scratched his chin at the strange behavior but decided to remain silent, thinking that this was just another one of the countless human things that he hadn't seen before.

About an hour later, after Beyond was completely satisfied, he dumped the soap stamps into a nearby gutter, walked onto the highway, and gazed towards the lights in the distance. "Now, to find Miss Naomi Misora..."

With a knife in his hand and a crazy grin on his face, Beyond Birthday strolled down the highway towards Los Angeles.

* * *

 _The Death Note only affects Humans. It is not specified why other species cannot be killed by the Death Note or have visible names and lifespans._


	3. Sunrise

_Every human has a name._

* * *

 _Two Hours Later_

A piercing ray of light shone through the translucent window, striking a man sitting before a set of monitors. He swiveled his neck to see the source of the beam peaking over the horizon and turned back to face his computer. More light pooled around him, confining the man within the blinding spotlight.

The man picked up his cup of tea, allowing the light to illuminate the liquid a bright scarlet red. He turned on the speakers. Immediately, a voice spoke out.

"Good morning, Master L. I'm sure that you've heard about the incident in California last night."

He set down his cup of tea and turned on the microphone.

"Yes. I've received the material you sent me."

"Have you come to any conclusions, Master L?"

"Surprisingly, I have, thanks to a clue I believe was left intentionally." He opened up a picture that featured a slip of paper with a series of poorly written letters. "According to Miss Misora during her investigation in LA a year ago, the killer had left behind a series of Roman numerals after the murder of Believe Bridesmaid as a lead to the next victim. When translated, the Roman numerals reveal a sequence of numbers that exactly match the one left in the hand of an officer who suffocated to death in a car crash a few miles from the prison."

The man took another sip of tea. "The man who drove in the car did not suffocate from the airbags, rather surprisingly, he strangled himself to death prior to the car accident. No sign of the man struggling was seen in the car, unlike most people when suffocating."

"Do you suspect _him,_ Master L?"

"There isn't substantial evidence to suspect _him_ yet. Nevertheless, _he_ is the only escapee who left any trace of his existence after the incident. Also, the chances that someone has knowledge of this number sequence is low. Say, around 0.1 percent. For now, I will ignore this possibility."

More tea. "With no leads on "who", we must attempt to answer the question "how?". If the prisoners rallied and made the escape effort together, that would explain their disappearance and their ability to murder eight patrol teams in less than 2 hours." He loaded up another report.

"However, the patrol paths of all eight patrol squads were designed to leave no blind spots within the prison campus. Even if we were to assume that, perhaps, the patrol teams were not following protocol during those two hours, it would be impossible to take out all eight teams before one realized the situation, especially the team located on the watchtowers. This is further supported by the fact that nothing close to being a potential weapon was found during cell searches throughout the past six months. In addition, we know that this was not the case, as no signs of struggle were found anywhere on the prison campus." The man quickly scribbled down his ideas and continued speaking into the microphone.

"This leads my next idea. According to every report I've received so far, every officer who died on campus during those two hours died from some form of suicide like the man in that car; no evidence of any external forces causing this was found. A possibility for this could be the result of an elaborate staging by the missing inmates, but the amount of time required would be ridiculous in order to reach this level of detail. Security camera footage would have confirmed or disproved this argument completely, but whoever destroyed the camera systems had enough foresight to prevent me to actually see how the officers died."

"One piece of evidence, however, completely invalidates this possibility, the one I find the most disturbing. The officers manning the watchtowers suffered the same fate as their colleagues even though the watchtowers' doors were _never opened_ during the two hours. All of them died by their own hands in some disturbing way. It's almost as if..."

The man took another sip of tea.

"As if what, Master L?"

He unceremoniously set the cup down, sending little drops of brown liquid staining his white shirt.

 _"._..as if the killer didn't need to be present at the victim's location to kill. _"_

 _"Kira...it seems you can kill people without being there in person."_

"You believe that Kira was the perpetrator, Master L?"

The man scribbled once again onto the sheet of paper. "Possibly, but I cannot think of any reason as to why Kira would decide to help a hundred inmates at a Californian prison escape. What troubles me more is that _he_ is among the missing inmates, which makes the likelihood of Kira knowing about his connection to me very high."

He nibbled his thumb as he clicked through the reports. "Fortunately, I willing to treat this possibility the same as the likelihood of a copycat." He opened up a file and scrolled further. "Yet, none of the officers died from heart attacks. If we were to assume that Kira could also control the cause of death..." The man drew a few diagrams and scribbled a few words down.

"...then the assumption that Kira is the culprit is very likely to be correct so far. He destroyed the camera system to prevent me from seeing how he kills, he manipulated lightning into striking the technician as...I suppose...a cause of death, he forced the officers to kill themselves, and he caused the one car to crash."

The man took out his eighth sugar cube and held it between his fingers.

"According to the prison however, the shifts of the patrol teams are determined during the evening before. Kira, based on our current observations, is a student living in Japan." The man started to fiddle with the sugar cube. "While he does probably have a connection with the Japanese police, how would he have gained access to information _orally transmitted_ between and only between law officials?"

The sugar cube spun faster. "Therefore, I conclude that Kira is not the killer. In fact, I believe- no, I am certain that Kira probably has no awareness of this incident at all. On the other hand, we can now assume that Kira's power allows him to control the cause of the deaths. It may seem like a leap forward, but I assure you that my judgement is sound."

The cube was now a blur in the man's hand. "Before I finish, there is something odd that I have noticed during my investigation. During the days before the incident, the number of Kira victims in the prison-in-question increased substantially, causing me to suspect Kira in the first place. In addition, the murders were similar to how Kira killed in the early days of the investigation, but in a less "cleaner" way _per say_. As if he was experimenting again."

"That is all for now, Watari."

"I will send you more once a thorough police search is completed."

 _Click._

A swift pinch sent clouds of white dust quietly drifting into the the murky pool of darkness.

 _Could it be... that Kira's power has manifested itself in another?..._

He took a third sip of tea.

 _...B?_

It tasted bitter. The man gazed out the window at the sun, rising above the mountains to flood the city below with its blood.

A crimson sunrise.

* * *

"Why do humans want to live in those tiny things?" The shinigami raised up a fat finger at the shabby, worn-down apartments that towered over both sides of the filthy alley the two were passing through. Beyond paid no attention to the creature behind him as he continued to walk forward, hunched over and half-smiling.

"Hey, what's wrong with you? You've ignored me for the last hour and a half!"

The narrow alleyway gradually opened up until it led to a poorly lit parking lot overshadowed by dense trees. The parking lines were so faded that it was practically indistinguishable from the dark, cracking cement. A sole, gray van sat in the darkest corner, cloaked by the darkness of the night. The broken lights casted long shadows from the ground beneath Beyond's feet across the lot, constantly appearing and disappearing out of existence. He gestured at the dark reflections and then at the ground below the hovering shinigami with a silent sneer.

The shinigami watched Beyond crawl underneath the car. "Ooohh...I see."

A loud, metallic crash came out from underneath the car, followed by Beyond, who held a small key in his hand with a grin. "It's quite a surprise that the police haven't towed away this car, considering the fact that its registration sticker is expired by two years." He opened up the driver's door and shoved the jar of jam into the darkness, crawling after it. The shinigami followed suit, squeezing into the van's interior and getting stuck in an uncomfortable position.

"I never got this...why did you leave that note behind if you killed off all those humans back at the prison to cover up your trail? And what was up with the wiping stuff?"

Beyond crunched on his thumbnail as he groped around in the darkness, searching for the light switch. "What would happen if the LAPD knew that the Wara Ningyo killer murdered hundreds of officers in a 2-hour timespan? Would I even last a night in a game of hide and seek against possibly the entire U.S. miitary, every law enforcement agency, and..." He cackled at the idea. "No, shinigami. I will have been shot seventeen times before I could even raise the pen."

"Yeah, you're right, I guess."

He clicked the light switch on the ceiling, flooding the small space with a cold shimmer. A small laptop sat in the far left corner on the black carpet next to a couple bags filled with various grocery items. At the farthest end of the van laid dozens of empty glass jars, some crusty from the drops of jam left over inside. To Beyond's right laid a couple spare pieces of clothing, some worn out and some looking as if they were fresh from a store.

With an unnaturally wide smile, Beyond said, "As for the little clue I left behind...a game wouldn't be fun if no one knows that they're playing." He crouched in front of the laptop and powered it on.

 _What have you been up to for the last sixteen months, Naomi Misora?_

* * *

When Beyond first encountered L's representative on that fateful day, he had tirelessly obtained a list of every FBI agent currently employed in the FBI, along with Naomi Misora's FBI profile, including her accomplishments and personal information in order to better understand her level of intellect.

Now, to Beyond, this list seemed to most logical place to begin his search. Beyond opened up the page and began to scroll down.

 _T. Misker..._

 _C. Mismering..._

 _P. Misnila..._

 _K. Misqure._

The shinigami, with one of its left hands hovering over the laptop screen, made an "O" shape with its gigantic mouth. "It seems like your human is missing...huh."

 _CRUNCH_

A dull fingernail fell unceremoniously onto the van's floor, followed by a few crimson drops of blood that splattered around the fingernail, speckling it with dark red dots. The pain caused Beyond to lose his balance in his crouch, falling through the shinigami and splattering more blood around the enclosure.

He narrowed his eyes. "Unhhh..."

He sat back up and slowly scrolled through the list one more time, eyeing the names closely in case he somehow missed it on his first try.

 _Are you dead, Misora bitch?_

Beyond loaded up a photo of Naomi Misora, who's bright, red name and lifespan still floated over her head, just like how they did at their first meeting a year ago.

"No...?"

 _So you left the FBI...?_

He stood up and took out a makeup kit from underneath the floor mat and slapped on a pair of gloves. The shinigami stretched its arm closer to inspect the new mysterious artifact he had yet to understand.

 _You will die, Misora bitch. Soon. Very soon._

"It seems that we will have to stay here for a little longer than I anticipated, shinigami."

* * *

 _5837861_

Beyond walked past a group of college students, chatting and laughing as they took large swigs of beer.

 _67946_

A couple shouted and cursed at each other across the road, the man's face filled with fury and the woman's face plastered with disbelief. He paid them no attention.

 _4567878_

A bright convenience store illuminated Beyond as he shuffled past. A nervous man, obviously a shoplifter, took a couple of quick glances to his surroundings before taking off in a spur.

 _3456866_

He saw men, but he didn't see them.

 _7856467_

For his focus was entirely directed on the numbers amidst the red sea.

 _687645_

Red numbers.

 _567872_

 _Red numbers._

 _6787654_

 _The truth._

Beyond's gaze fell upon a young woman dressed in a white turtleneck jacket and grey slacks hurrying down the street, attempting to draw minimal attention to herself.

He grinned. A very wide grin.

* * *

Red.

All he could see was red. He looked at his knife with wide eyes, almost glowing under the dim street lights. It was red. A drop of blood slid off the blade, plummeting into the sewer. It was red.

The woman's jacket was red.

The sky was red.

Red.

 _Huff._

 _Huff._

Suddenly, the red vanished. The shinigami looked on with hands outstretched, curious.

"Wow... so that's how humans kill one another-"

"No."

The shinigami scratched its head. "Well, she's dead because you did... whatever that was."

With a few swings of his knife, Beyond took the purse off of the corpse's shoulders and began to rummage through it. " _I_ didn't kill her, shinigami. She died."

"I don't get it."

"Her lifespan stated that she will die at 3:02 today. One minute ago."

The shinigami frowned.

"But you still killed that human."

Beyond pulled out a couple of paper bills and stared at them with blood-red eyes piercing through the shadows covering his eyes. "Men attempt to flee from the horrifying truth when it floats right above their heads." Clouds of redness danced in his eyes. "Every second in this world reminds me that nobody, no matter what they do, can run away." A smile grew on his face as he turned around to face the shinigami.

"So I don't. I don't run, because everyone will die regardless." He looked up. "If you insist on calling my virtues "killing", then I suppose that I am killing people. I like killing. It makes me very happy."

Well, that didn't clarify anything.

Beyond flicked his wrist sharply, sending the remaining blood that coated the dagger flying everywhere, and slid the knife and the stolen money into his pocket. In a barely audible voice, he whispered,

"I always wondered how Misora bitch would die. Now, I've got a pretty good clue."

He walked away laughing hysterically into the night.

* * *

"Is this all, Mr. Bicker? You should try out the rasberry-pineapple jam they stocked in last week! The look on Mr. Brown's face when he saw the new products was priceless!"

Beyond faced the woman at the cash register and grinned. "Strawberry tastes just fine." The girl grinned back and looked down.

 _Katie Hopkins_

 _664793_

He had met her during his first days in LA while aimlessly wandering around the city. Befriending this energetic and innocent woman proved to be incredibly useful later on, as she would swipe makeup tools, gloves, and knife sharpening kits through the scanner without asking awkward questions. She probably thought Beyond was some sort of artist, or perhaps some kind of secret agent. A secret agent who was in love with strawberry jam. Unaware that the very items she was selling to his man was being used to conceal the serial killer who stood before her.

While the woman was busy placing his groceries in his bag, Beyond watched the shinigami inspect every little item in the story, poking and prodding around and gasping like a child in a toy store.

"Mr. Bailey, here's your stuff. Come back soon! Maybe a mad scientist will concoct a new condiment the next time you come!" She waved and smiled widely as Beyond grabbed his stuff. His eyes momentarily focused on the string of numbers bobbing up and down above the girl's head.

 _January 2nd, 2004. 11:29._ He wondered why he never noticed that before.

 _"Why? Why are you do this?"_

 _But she didn't look back._

 _Because he already knew the answer._

 _Because there is no running away._

Beyond shook the long-forgotten memory out of his head as he walked out of the building, the shinigami close in-tow.

She waved and smiled.

* * *

18:13

Raye Penber observed waves of people rocked back and forth, flowing in and out of the tight trains and up and down the stairs. Everywhere, people hurried to their respective destinations, eager to rest and reunite with their loved ones after a long day of work.

He had just finished his last day monitoring the boy whom L had ordered him to. After a week of observing, recording, and more observation, he was finally done. Once he was back with Naomi, he would have to face a far greater terror than Kira.

Meeting his hopefully-soon-to-be parents-in-law.

The very thought made him shudder, and he chuckled. Soon, his days of putting his life on the line would be over, and he would devote the rest of it to building a family with his fiancee. Maybe he should get off the field and go into a less extreme department, like forensics.

No, maybe more like a Criminal Profiler. He couldn't do forensics to save his goddamn life.

"Mr. Raye Penber."

 _What?!_

It wasn't any of the FBI agents - he knew all of their voices by heart - Naomi's parents? Even Naomi only knew as much as Raye had been willing to disclose during their conversations at home, and he never mentioned the station he planned to board the metro nor the time he planned to head home. He began to turn around to see who else on Earth would know his name, much less his whereabouts, and instinctively reached for his gun.

"I'll kill you if you turn around."

His eyes widened as he gasped in disbelief.

"I am Kira."

* * *

 _It is impossible to alter the date of death without the usage of a Death Note._


End file.
